


thank god for the russian mafia

by hawksonfire



Series: oh, the good ol' days [19]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Bucky is observant, Deaf Clint Barton, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Fraction's Clint Barton, Fucking Ivan, Hand Jobs, M/M, Marvel Bingo 2019, Metal Arm Kink, Multi, Porn with Feelings, Steve doesn't like being called bro, Teasing, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:44:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21812533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawksonfire/pseuds/hawksonfire
Summary: In which Clint can't look away, Bucky catches him watching, and Steve's just real glad these two are his.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: oh, the good ol' days [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1533320
Comments: 25
Kudos: 234
Collections: Marvel Bingo 2019





	thank god for the russian mafia

**Author's Note:**

> Marvel Bingo Square B3 - Metal Arm Kink.
> 
> I'M BAAAAAAACK! School is out for the year, and I am ready to get some words written!! Enjoy, my lovelies!!

**Clint**

_ Theoretically_, Clint knew he had a thing for the metal arm. Yes, he hates that Bucky got it the way he did, and yes, he knows that inherently, the arm itself is not attractive to him. But. 

But here’s the thing. The arm is attached to Bucky. Who _ is _ inherently attractive to Clint. And it’s not like Clint thinks about fucking the arm or anything. Mostly he just thinks about _ Bucky _ fucking him with the arm. Clint knows firsthand that it’s sealed against outside liquids (don’t ask how) but what he doesn’t know is how the arm feels on his dick.

Or inside him. Fuck. He gets a little sidetracked thinking about that, the thought of Bucky staring down at him, concentrating hard enough that he’s got that little furrow between his brows and a shiver runs through him. 

Shit, now he’s got a boner. Sighing, Clint adjusts himself quickly then whips a coffee mug into the gut of a guy about to come up behind Steve and whack him on the head. “Got your back, babe,” Clint says, winking at Steve when he turns around.

“No flirting while fighting,” Bucky snaps, throwing a different guy into the wall. 

“Aw, you ruin my fun,” Clint pouts.

“I think they were the ones who ruined our fun, technically,” Steve points out. 

“Fair,” Clint agrees. He sidesteps a poorly thrown punch from Goon #3 and jabs his elbow into the guy’s throat, watching him fall to the ground choking dispassionately. “We were on a perfectly nice date and they just had to come out of nowhere and ruin it.” 

“I wouldn’t call it _ perfectly _ nice,” Bucky snorts. When Clint looks over at him, offended, he remembers the whole reason he went off on a mini-tangent about the arm in his head. Bucky’s just casually holding a man up against a wall, metal hand around his throat, not even flinching at the feeble kicks being landed on his legs. “Steve was being a punk, after all.”

“Hey!” Steve protests, kneeing Goon #5 in the gut, “It was just a _ friendly _ conversation -”

“You were turning red -”

“- two baseball fans -”

“- Dodgers aren’t a Brooklyn team anymore, babe -”

“Hey!” Bucky and Steve both look over at Clint. He raises an eyebrow. “Maybe continue that conversation when we’re not surrounded by goons trying to -” He stops. Kicks a barely conscious body at his feet. “Hey. What were you trying to do, anyway?” The body, unsurprisingly, doesn’t respond. Well, there’s a groan, but Clint’s not counting that. He kicks it again. “Hey, I’m talking to you.”

“Clint, stop kicking the enemy,” Steve says, exasperated. “Bucky, you’re turning that one into a grape.” Bucky blinks and looks towards the man (still held against the wall with his arm, by the way) and drops him, stepping over his wheezing frame casually.

“We should find out what they were trying to do, though,” Bucky says. Clint’s finger flies to the tip of his nose shortly before Bucky’s does. “Not it!” They say together, then break down into snickers when Steve rolls his eyes at them.

“Children,” he mutters as he picks his way through the bodies covering the floor of the coffee shop. “I’m dating children.”

“Pretty sure that says more about you than it does about us, Cap,” Clint calls as he and Bucky get started on zip-tieing all the unconscious goons. 

“We’re real sorry about this, ma’am,” Steve says earnestly to the owner, who’s staring at them with a perplexed look on her face. “We’ll send someone over to clean this up and reimburse you for any damages, you have my word.”

The owner thanks him, still staring at her shop in shock, and Steve jogs back over to where Bucky and Clint are waiting by the door, stopping to grab a goon and sling them over his shoulder as he passes one that’s still wiggling around, albeit weakly. “Always gotta choose the big ones, huh Rogers?” Bucky teases.

Steve blinks, then tosses a glance at the goon on his shoulder and sighs as he realizes he did, in fact, pick the biggest one in the shop. “C’mon Buck,” Clint says, shoving Bucky’s shoulder, “You and I both know he can take guys bigger than him.” He winks.

Bucky snorts as Steve turns bright red. “Yeah, sunshine, I suppose you’re right.” With a bow, Bucky grabs hold of a metal beam that fell in front of the door at some point and lifts it above his head, barely even straining at the weight. His arm clicks and whirs, drawing Clint’s attention and reminding him of the... _ unfortunate _ situation in his pants. 

He clears his throat and averts his eyes, feeling his cheeks heat up. He can also feel Bucky’s eyes on him, contemplative and thoughtful, as they make the trek back to the Tower. Oh boy. 

~~

Clint’s on the couch, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he tries to see if he can beat Coconut Mall upside down, when a voice from the kitchen distracts him. “Seriously?” Bucky asks in disbelief. “They were just Russian mafia thugs?”

Clint falls off the couch in his haste to right himself and get free of the blankets he wrapped himself in, but he makes it to the kitchen only slightly out of breath and says, “Did you say Russian mafia?”

“Yes,” Steve says slowly. “Kept mentioning someone named Ivan, and calling me ‘bro’.” He wrinkles his nose. “I don’t like being called bro.”

“Did he say anything else?” presses Clint.

“Why are you so invested in this, sunshine?” Bucky asks, coming up behind Clint and wrapping an arm around his waist. “They’re just a couple of thugs.”

Clint sighs. “No, they’re a couple of thugs that have been hassling my tenants, and that I should’ve taken care of a long time ago.” He pulls out of Bucky’s grasp and starts pacing. “Fuck, I should’ve known something like this was gonna happen,” he mutters. 

“Hey, Clint, you wanna tell us what’s going on?” Steve asks, looking worried. Clint looks between him and Bucky and only sees honest concern on their faces.

“I... kindaownabuilding,” he says all in a rush, wincing as he watches them try to parse through that. “I won it off some Russians in a poker game after they tried to raise the rent to something that would have meant most of the tenants moving out, and they’ve been hassling me ever since trying to get it back. I thought I got rid of them a while ago, but... guess not.”

“How did we not know you own a building?” Bucky asks.

Clint winces. “It’s not exactly something I talk about. And I’ve been real bad at checking up on the place recently - been more concerned with other stuff.” You two, he doesn’t say. “I should probably head over there now, actually.” He makes it to his bedroom and has nearly finished grabbing what he needs (his bow and a few clean pairs of underwear, anything else should already be there) when he realizes that Steve and Bucky are still in the kitchen. “Would you guys maybe... wanna come with me?” He asks, like it doesn’t mean anything if they say no. They both light up.

“Yeah?” Bucky says, eyes crinkling.

“We’d love to,” Steve says, pressing a kiss to Clint’s cheek as he rushes off to pack a bag. Bucky stops on his way out of the kitchen as he’s passing Clint and brushes a hand over Clint’s cheek. He looks at Clint, something unreadable in his eyes, then keeps walking without a word. 

Clint manages to hold in his shiver at the coolness of Bucky’s hand until his back is turned. Barely. He’s jittery for some reason, bouncing on his feet as he waits. It’s not a big deal, he tries to convince himself. They’re just coming to check out the building, it’s not like showing them the first place you’ve called home since - well, since ever, really - will affect how they see you or anything. 

“Think we can take the bikes?” Bucky asks with a wink as he and Steve come towards Clint, bags over their shoulders. 

Clint whines, even as he’s turning and walking towards the elevator that’ll take them to the parking garage. “Not fair, you know what that does to me.”

They enter the elevator and Bucky presses up against Clint’s side, his voice a rumble in Clint’s ear. “Oh, I know, sweetheart,” he purrs, “I know.” Clint swallows the noise he wants to make. “And don’t think I didn’t notice the way you were staring me earlier,” Bucky continues, an arm sliding around Clint’s waist as his knees threaten to give out. “Couldn’t keep your eyes off me when I was throwing those goons around, could you?”

“What, is it illegal to ogle my super-hot boyfriend now?” Clint tries to joke, but even to him his voice sounds wrecked. Steve’s watching them with wide eyes, confusion clear as he tries to work out what they’re talking about. 

“No, not illegal, doll,” Bucky murmurs, voice somehow going even lower, “Just... interesting.” The elevator doors slide open and with a final nip to Clint’s ear, Bucky’s removing his arm from around Clint’s waist and walking across the garage, looking back when he reaches the bikes and raising an eyebrow. “You two comin’ or what?”

Clint blinks and starts walking, belatedly realizing that Steve’s right beside him, just as affected by Bucky as he is. “Whatever you did to get that,” Steve breathes, so quiet that Clint has to strain to hear it, “Do it again.” Clint doesn’t answer, too busy trying to get some moisture back into his too-dry mouth. 

“So, sweetheart,” Bucky drawls, pulling his helmet on and flipping up the visor, “You ridin’ me or Stevie today?” Clint _ very pointedly _ does not laugh at the innuendo, and then _ very pointedly _ climbs onto Bucky’s bike with feigned nonchalance, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s torso like his dick’s not about to explode out of his pants. 

Bucky, the asshole, rolls up his sleeves so that Clint can see the glint of light shining off his arm, turns the ignition, and says, “Hold on tight, sweetheart, wouldn’t want you to fall.” 

~~

By the time they make it to Clint’s building, Clint’s calmed down (barely) enough that he won’t be scarring his tenants for life when he checks in on them, and he’s able to climb off Bucky’s bike with his legs only a little bit wobbly. “You alright there?” Bucky asks, amusement clear on his face.

“Peachy,” Clint squeaks. He clears his throat. “Just peachy,” he says again, this time sounding far closer to his regular voice. Grabbing his bow case off the side of Bucky’s bike, he heads towards the building. “I’m gonna check on a few tenants, you guys can come if you want or you can just head straight up to my place - top floor, end of the hall, key’s on top of the doorframe.”

Steve catches up with him and laces their fingers together. “I’m kinda curious about Landlord Clint, you mind if I tag along?” 

“Course not,” Clint says. “Buck, you wanna come?” Bucky nods, and he and Steve fall into quiet conversation as Clint leads them through the building. Mrs. Lannister in 1B plies him with cookies and extracts a promise out of him to come visit her and her five cats soon - that woman could get anything out of anyone, Clint thinks. He smiles as she pats him on the ass on his way out, and he manages to keep from blushing too badly when she asks if Bucky and Steve are his new lovers, and if no, would he mind terribly if she borrowed them for a few hours? (Immediately after her door closes, Clint can hear her shuffling away and then a phone dials, and he rolls his eyes and prepares himself for a seemingly endless amount of nosy people asking questions about Steve and Bucky.)

Benny in 2C lets them in ‘only to settle an argument between me and Jack here’, but Clint has to stifle a smirk as he sees Jack hastily setting the phone back in its cradle before he offers them some lemonade. Benny and Jack keep them there for about twenty minutes, and then Clint begs off, citing the need to check in on everyone else before they go to bed as a reason to leave. Steve looks rather pale as they leave, but before Clint can dwell too much on why, the door to 2D opens and Carla sticks her head out. 

They spend another half hour there, only this time Clint is pulled into teaching Kyle, her oldest, how to fix a sink. He manages well enough and by the time they’re done, the sink is working and Kyle has a moderate understanding of how sinks work, but Clint reminds him to always call before he tries to fix something himself. Carla thanks them by pushing a lasagna at them, refusing to take no for an answer. Clint promises himself that he’ll do something about her car later - she said it’s been making a weird noise, and Clint’s not terrible with cars. And if he fucks up, he’ll just buy her a new one. 

Maybe he should just buy her a new one anyway.

Everyone on the third floor is out of town for a few days or just not home, and finally, _ finally_, Clint unlocks the door to his apartment and shuffles inside, dropping his bag on the floor and cracking his back. “So, what’d you think?” He asks, turning to face Bucky and Steve after he pops the lasagna in the fridge.

“Mrs. Lannister is terrifying,” Steve says in awe.

“The guys in 2C invited me back to play cards with them,” Bucky says wistfully. 

“Don’t let her old age fool you. Mrs. Lannister’s a flirt, but she doesn’t mean anything by it,” Clint says, “She’s forever in love with her husband, Larry. He passed a few years ago. And Benny and Jack are card sharks, Buck, best I’ve seen in my day. Don’t let them hustle you.”

“You were pretty good with that kid,” Bucky observes. 

Clint shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Kyle’s not so bad, just needs someone to listen to him. His mom tries her best, but she works two jobs and has three other kids to take care of. I help out where I can.” Bucky wanders over to his fridge and pulls it open, raising an eyebrow at Clint when he finds it empty except for a case of beer and the lasagna Clint just put in there. “What? I told you, I haven’t been here in a while.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and grabs a bottle, popping the cap off with his metal thumb. Clint’s mouth goes dry, and if the way Bucky starts to smirk is any indication, he noticed. “Somethin’ you wanna discuss, sweetheart?”

“Nope,” Clint says, rocking back on his heels stubbornly, “Not a thing.”

“Alright, what is going on?” Steve asks, stepping between the two of them. “You’ve been weird since the elevator back at the Tower.”

Clint keeps his mouth shut even as his cheeks start to burn. Bucky snorts. “Clint has a thing for the metal arm.”

“It’s not the arm,” Clint mutters. He looks up to find Steve and Bucky staring at him. Huffing out a breath in frustration, he tries to explain. “It’s not the arm, that’s just a piece of tech. It’s how _ you _ use the arm. It’s like...” He sighs, searching for an example. “Okay, so when you held that guy against the wall this morning and it looked like it wasn’t even bothering you to do it? And you were talking to me and Steve? That’s what did it for me, not the arm itself. If it was just the arm, I’d have had Tony make me a vibrator or something shaped like it months ago and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“That’s...” Bucky trails off.

Clint gestures helplessly. “It’s just you, Bucky. I’m just attracted to you.”

Wordlessly, Bucky puts his beer on the counter, then stalks over to Clint, his face blank. Before Clint can say anything, Bucky pulls him into a harsh kiss, fisting his (metal!!) hand in the collar of Clint’s shirt so he can’t get away. “Bedroom,” Bucky growls when he pulls back, leaving Clint gasping for air in front of him. “Now.”

“Yeah, yep, okay,” Clint babbles, still reeling from the kiss. Steve snorts when neither of them move, walking over and picking them both up like it’s nothing, which yanks a whimper from Clint’s throat. 

Steve doesn’t stop moving, just casts him a glance and says in a measured tone, “We’ll be using that, too.”

Oh fuck. _ Oh fuck_. Clint is so screwed. In the best possible way, he is so screwed. Steve carries him and Bucky to the bedroom and makes to throw them onto the bed. “Wait!” Clint scrambles out of Steve’s arms. “This bed’s a piece of shit compared to the one we have at the Tower, it won’t survive you throwing us onto it.”

Steve sets Bucky down and they both stalk towards Clint slowly, making him move towards the bed until his knees hit the edge and he sits with a thump. “Well then,” Bucky says lowly as he pulls off his clothes, “Guess we’ll just have to be careful, won’t we?” Clint swallows. 

Steve, also naked, crawls onto the bed and makes his way behind Clint, peeling off his shirt and pinning his arms to his sides, and once Bucky divests him of his pants, pins his legs as well. Bucky slides a pillow under Clint’s hips, pressing a kiss to his hipbone as he does. “Lube?” He asks.

“Side table,” Clint chokes out, barely able to find the brainpower to remember what words are.

Bucky leans over and grabs the lube, then straightens back up, makes eye contact with Clint, and _ slicks up the metal hand_. Clint’s brain blue-screens. He goes offline, error 404 does not compute. He probably makes an embarrassing noise and when his brain is finished rebooting, Bucky’s already a finger deep. 

Logically, Clint knows that it’s not really any different than having Bucky’s flesh fingers in him, but that doesn’t stop his brain from zeroing in on the few small differences he can detect. The metal finger’s harder, less forgiving somehow, and when Bucky presses another finger to his hole, Clint has to suck in a breath at the coolness of it. “You really like this,” Bucky says in awe, eyes searching his face. 

Clint manages to free his hand from Steve’s grasp and reaches towards Bucky’s face, cupping his cheek. “I really like _ you_,” he says firmly, breath hitching as Bucky twists his wrist. After a few seconds, Clint pulls his hand away and puts it back at his side, letting Steve pin it there. He can feel Steve’s cock pressing up against his back, and he smirks. “See somethin’ you like, baby?” He says, letting his head fall back until he’s looking Steve in the eye.

“Always,” Steve says simply. He leans down and captures Clint’s mouth in a kiss, swallowing every moan, every noise, every curse that falls from Clint’s mouth. Bucky rubs against his prostate with three fingers (when did he get that many in him?) and Clint shouts into Steve’s mouth. He tries to move, to push into the unrelenting pressure that is Bucky, but the two supersoldiers have got him pinned too well - he can’t move an inch. “Don’t you wanna watch?” Steve asks, tilting Clint’s head towards Bucky.

Clint whimpers at the sight of him - it’s a scene pulled directly from Clint’s fantasies. Bucky’s looking down at where he’s got three fingers pumping in and out of Clint, a little furrow between his eyes and a look of intense concentration on his face - all of it directed at Clint. His dick jumps, smacking against his stomach with a wet sound, and Bucky snorts. “Eager?” He asks, pulling his fingers out. Clint doesn’t even have time to whine at the loss before Bucky’s sliding his right hand’s fingers into him and wrapping his left hand around Clint’s dick. “Better?”

Clint nods furiously, eyes glued to the head of his cock poking out from the silver of Bucky’s fist. “Fuck, you’re gonna kill me,” he chokes out, watching as Bucky begins a slow, torturous pace, dragging his hand from root to tip and back again.

“Only a little,” Steve murmurs into his ear. “I understand why you thought this’d be hot now.”

“See?” Clint manages. “You should listen to me more often, Rogers.”

“If you’re still talking,” Bucky says conversationally, “I’m not doing it right.” He then proceeds to slowly, methodically, purposefully take Clint apart, and only when Clint is begging, nearly crying in his hands, does he finally, _ finally_, wrap his mouth around the head of Clint’s cock and suck. Hard. 

Clint screams, back arching off the bed despite Steve’s grasp on him. He’s very glad that no one on the third floor is in town right now, or he’d have a hell of an apology to make. Once he comes back down, he watches Steve and Bucky get each other off through bleary eyes - and it’s with no small amount of surprise that he watches Bucky roll off the bed, complaining about the mess.

“You’ve corrupted me,” Bucky grumbles, coming back with a washcloth. 

Clint grins, stretching out on the bed and letting Bucky wipe him down. “Nah,” he says cheerfully, “You’ve just grown as a person since you started dating me.”

“What about me?” Steve asks, pushing his way between the two of them.

“You’re still the same punk you were when Bucky met you,” Clint answers, and then he laughs at Steve’s cry of outrage and the resulting attack of pillows. 

“You guys are so mean to me,” Steve grumbles, pouting.

“You love it,” Bucky smirks.

“Yeah,” Steve admits, “I do.”

“And _ you _!” Bucky glares at Clint.

“What’d I do?” Clint asks, holding his hands up in confusion.

“Next time, just fucking tell me when you have a new kink so we can do that sooner,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes.

“You fuckin’ bet,” Clint agrees fervently, and the resulting laughter nearly makes Steve fall off the bed, at which point they just pull the mattress onto the floor and make a blanket fort. It’s a good way to end the evening, and Clint’s pretty fuckin’ glad that he brought them here.


End file.
